It's fine. Weeks of being sung at in her own mind have prepared her for this. It's not the voice she was hearing, but it doesn't send her into a panic.

And he looks strange, but so do trolls, and many other things about this place.

Elsa lets go of the railing, leaving the ice there. Her hands come up in front of her, more unsure and awkward than defensive or protective. She wants to know about the sound.

Carefully, she clears her throat. "Excuse me," asks Elsa, in a tone only barely loud enough to carry to where he is. "That sound. Is that you?"